More Bab Ballads Part 17

The LORD DE JACOB PILLALOO All proper maidens shun-- He loves all women, it is true, But never marries one.

Now JANE, with all her mad self-will, Was no coquette--oh no!

She really loved her faithful BILL, And thus she tuned her woe:

"Oh, willow, willow, o'er the lea!

And willow once again!

The Peer will fall in love with me!

Why wasn't I made plain?"

A cunning woman lived hard by, A sorceressing dame, MACCATACOMB DE SALMON-EYE Was her uncommon name.

To her good JANE, with kindly yearn For BILL'S increasing pain, Repaired in secrecy to learn How best to make her plain.

"Oh, JANE," the worthy woman said, "This mystic phial keep, And rub its liquor in your head Before you go to sleep.

"When you awake next day, I trow, You'll look in form and hue To others just as you do now-- But not to PILLALOO!

"When you approach him, you will find He'll think you coa.r.s.e--unkempt-- And rudely bid you get behind, With undisguised contempt."

The LORD DE PILLALOO arrived With his expensive train, And when in state serenely hived, He sent for BILL and JANE.

"Oh, spare her, LORD OF PILLALOO!

(Said BILL) if wed you be, There's anything I'D rather do Than flirt with LADY P."

The Lord he gazed in Jenny's eyes, He looked her through and through: The cunning woman's prophecies Were clearly coming true.

LORD PILLALOO, the Rustic's Bane (Bad person he, and proud), HE LAUGHED HA! HA! AT PRETTY JANE, AND SNEERED AT HER ALOUD!

He bade her get behind him then, And seek her mother's stye-- Yet to her native countrymen She was as fair as aye!

MACCATACOMB, continue green!

Grow, SALMON-EYE, in might, Except for you, there might have been The deuce's own delight

Ballad: Phrenology

"Come, collar this bad man-- Around the throat he knotted me Till I to choke began-- In point of fact, garotted me!"

So spake SIR HERBERT WRITE To JAMES, Policeman Thirty-two-- All ruffled with his fight SIR HERBERT was, and dirty too.

Policeman nothing said (Though he had much to say on it), But from the bad man's head He took the cap that lay on it.

"No, great SIR HERBERT WHITE-- Impossible to take him up.

This man is honest quite-- Wherever did you rake him up?

"For Burglars, Thieves, and Co., Indeed, I'm no apologist, But I, some years ago, a.s.sisted a Phrenologist.

"Observe his various b.u.mps, His head as I uncover it: His morals lie in lumps All round about and over it."

"Now take him," said SIR WHITE, "Or you will soon be rueing it; Bless me! I must be right,-- I caught the fellow doing it!"

Policeman calmly smiled, "Indeed you are mistaken, sir, You're agitated--riled-- And very badly shaken, sir.

"Sit down, and I'll explain My system of Phrenology, A second, please, remain"-- (A second is horology).

Policeman left his beat-- (The Bart., no longer furious, Sat down upon a seat, Observing, "This is curious!")

"Oh, surely, here are signs Should soften your rigidity: This gentleman combines Politeness with timidity.

"Of Shyness here's a lump-- A hole for Animosity-- And like my fist his b.u.mp Of Impecuniosity.

"Just here the b.u.mp appears Of Innocent Hilarity, And just behind his ears Are Faith, and Hope, and Charity.

He of true Christian ways As bright example sent us is-- This maxim he obeys, 'Sorte tua contentus sis.'

"There, let him go his ways, He needs no stern admonishing."

The Bart., in blank amaze, Exclaimed, "This is astonishing!

"I MUST have made a mull, This matter I've been blind in it: Examine, please, MY skull, And tell me what you find in it."

That Crusher looked, and said, With unimpaired urbanity, "SIR HERBERT, you've a head That teems with inhumanity.

"Here's Murder, Envy, Strife (Propensity to kill any), And Lies as large as life, And heaps of Social Villany.

"Here's Love of Bran-New Clothes, Embezzling--Arson--Deism-- A taste for Slang and Oaths, And Fraudulent Trusteeism.

"Here's Love of Groundless Charge-- Here's Malice, too, and Trickery, Unusually large Your b.u.mp of Pocket-Pickery--"

"Stop!" said the Bart., "my cup Is full--I'm worse than him in all; Policeman, take me up-- No doubt I am some criminal!"

That Pleeceman's scorn grew large (Phrenology had nettled it), He took that Bart. in charge-- I don't know how they settled it.

Ballad: The Fairy Curate

Once a fairy Light and airy Married with a mortal; Men, however, Never, never Pa.s.s the fairy portal.

Slyly stealing, She to Ealing Made a daily journey; There she found him, Clients round him (He was an attorney).

Long they tarried, Then they married.

When the ceremony Once was ended, Off they wended On their moon of honey.

Twelvemonth, maybe, Saw a baby (Friends performed an orgie).